


Sanctuary

by tau



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tau/pseuds/tau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sabal,” he says, but his voice cracks midway. There’s a dry lump in his throat that he has to swallow around before he repeats, stronger this time, “Sabal,” because the man is leaning in and Ajay is leaning in, trying to make sure it’s all real, trying to make sure it’s really Sabal who’s smiling back at him, not one of demons from his feverish visions from inside that stone prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in response to a post by energonpoweredgiraffes on tumblr.

Ajay wakes in a haze of blinding white, to the echo of screeching Rakshasa in his ears. It’s cold, too cold, his arms wrapping around himself as he feels waves of shudders pass through his body. His breaths are coming to him in short, quick gasps, his blood is pounding in his skull, roaring in his ears, and he wants to run but he _can’t move, he’s trapped, they’re going to get him_.

It's a long time, too long, before the world fades to him in flickers of red and gold. There’s a shadow edging into the corner of his vision, a dark figure, and he instinctively reaches for his side, shaking fingers searching for his kukri, his gun - anything - but there’s nothing but blankets around him and he grabs only a fistful of cloth. He blinks, confused, every nerve in his body screaming at him to move as the figure moves closer and a hand rests on his own. It’s rough, warm, firm. _Familiar_ , he realizes.

“It’s okay, brother. You’re safe now.”

The hand squeezes his, so warm over his shivering fingers, and a wave of relief washes over Ajay as he looks up to find green-not-black eyes staring back down at him. “Sabal,” he says, but his voice cracks midway. There’s a dry lump in his throat that he has to swallow around before he repeats, stronger this time, “Sabal,” because the man is leaning in and Ajay is leaning in, trying to make sure it’s all real, trying to make sure it’s really Sabal who’s smiling back at him, not one of demons from his feverish visions from inside that stone prison.

But none of his visions, not even in his dreams during those restless nights spent under the starry sky, could capture the warmth of Sabal’s smile, warmer than even the hand covering his own. It’s a warmth that spreads up from his fingers, up his arms and through his body, lingering somewhere in his ribcage and exploding like fireworks. It’s a warmth that tells him, _he’s alive. He's free_.

Breaths are coming to him more naturally now - stronger, less shaky. Ajay steadies himself on his hands, trying to push himself straight, but then there’s a hand on his chest, easing him back down and against the headboard, and Sabal’s voice drifting in his ear: “Easy there, brother. You look good for someone who just clawed his way out of Durgesh, but you still need to rest.”

That’s right, Ajay thinks. He was in Durgesh, and now he’s here. Everything else in between is a blank.

“How long was I out?” he asks, thankful when it comes out steady.

Sabal’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly, but the tension eases in an instant before Ajay can comprehend it. “It took a week for us to track you down, and even longer for you to wake,” he answers. “Thank Kyra we found you when we did.”

Ajay licks his lips and nods. “Thank you, Sabal.”

“Don’t thank me,” Sabal says. “Thank the gods. I prayed to them for your safety, and they answered my prayers. I don’t know what we would have done if -”

His voice strains and he trails off with a frown, the lines of his face growing deeper, and in that moment Ajay wants so badly to reach out and touch that face with his free hand, to whisper, _it’s okay, I’m still here, I’m not dying yet_ , so that’s what he does. Sabal freezes, staring back at Ajay with wide eyes as Ajay’s fingers follow the path of stubble over his jaw, but the tension is gone before Ajay can think any better of it. Sabal leans into the touch and closes his eyes with a sigh.

They’re silent for a moment, Ajay tracing an idle path down from Sabal’s jaw, to his neck, to his shoulder, where his hand rests. Sabal thumbs reassuring circles into Ajay’s palm, pressing through the leather of his gloves. Ajay takes it all in: the warmth of Sabal’s skin on him, the careful tension of his body, the way Sabal’s stubble is much rougher than it usually is, like he hasn’t shaved in days. His hair is unkempt, falling out of its tie, there are dark circles forming underneath his eyes, and he looks _vulnerable_. 

Ajay stares for much too long, uncertain of what to make of this Sabal. Sabal catches his gaze and frowns.

“You’ve only just woken,” he says, disentangling his fingers from Ajay’s. “I should leave you to rest.”

Panic flashes through Ajay before he can help it, memories of looping stone corridors and the overpowering need to _find home, find something real_ resurfacing. His hand slides down Sabal’s arm as the man’s heat leaves him, and without thinking his fingers clench around what fabric he can reach. Sabal halts mid-step and fixes Ajay with a curious stare, but to Ajay’s relief doesn’t pull away.

“Um,” Ajay says, pulling his hand away apologetically, his eyes dropping to the floor with it. “You can stay. I mean, if you want. I just - I don’t know if I can be alone right now.”

He feels silly right as the words leave his mouth, for even suggesting that the man stay when he probably has a million other things more important than Ajay to take care of. For a second he doesn’t even dare breathe, like he’s stuck in a limbo where he’s not quite sure how the other man will respond, but Sabal’s expression only softens before he turns and kneels back down on the floor by Ajay’s bed.

“Oh. Were you kneeling there that whole time?” Ajay asks. “Doesn’t that hurt? You can sit up here, if you want.” He motions at the bed. Sabal only responds with a mild raise of his eyebrow and Ajay realizes belatedly how forward the suggestion must seem. “Uh. Or not.”

He stops before he can embarrass himself further, but Sabal just smiles again and untangles his legs in order to settle himself on the edge of the bed next to Ajay’s hip. The bed dips and creaks and Ajay realizes he doesn’t even know if the thing is even structurally sound enough to handle the two of them, but the thought is pushed to the back of his mind as Sabal takes Ajay’s hand back in both of his, curling their fingers together, holding tight. “It’s fine, brother. You’ve had a rough week.”

Ajay laughs. “Rough week? More like rough _month_.”

Sabal laughs softly with him, but there’s an uncertainty creeping in the edge of it that Ajay doesn’t miss. They’ve never talked about how Ajay’s not even supposed to be here in the first place, how he's definitely overstaying his welcome, or how long he’s planning on staying. Sabal has always seemed unwilling to breach the topic, and Ajay has found that he won’t try if the other man doesn’t want to. Kyrat’s become a fixture in his life, he’s realized. He’s only been here a month and already he can’t imagine being anywhere but here, in this country, with Sabal.

This is home now.

As if reading his mood, Sabal squeezes his hand reassuringly and leans in until their foreheads are almost touching. “It’ll be over soon, I promise. Pagan is no doubt aware that we are closing in on his doorstep. He’s afraid, and we’re closer to freeing the north than ever, all thanks to you. Your father would be proud.”

Sabal is so close his breaths ghost across Ajay’s face with each word. There’s something about his words Ajay should protest, he thinks, but the thought escapes him, barely registering over the roar of blood in his ears and beating, vibrating crescendo of drumming against his ribs.

“I know it’s all been strange for you,” Sabal continues, his voice just above a murmur. “But we need you here. _I_ need you here. You’re important to all of us.” His hand squeezes again, tighter this time, and his voice grows taught. “I was so sure you were lost to us. I was never so glad to be wrong in my life.”

His smile is crooked and distant now, a look that stirs nervous waves in Ajay’s gut as he wonders just how long the man searched for him, waited for him to wake up, and Ajay finds himself at a loss, not sure how the best way to move forward. So he does the first thing he can think of: he wraps his arms around Sabal’s shoulders and pulls him closer into a hug. 

The angle is awkward - Sabal half-bent over him, Ajay arched just too much for comfort - but neither of them pull away. Sabal’s hands find their way to Ajay’s hips and rest there, not quite confident in their place around him, and Ajay grabs fistfuls of Sabal’s jacket, burying his face into the man’s shoulder. It’s warm but most importantly it’s solid, and Ajay thinks he could stay like this, unmoving, forever. He inhales deeply, taking in the way Sabal smells like candles and incense.

“Don’t worry,” he says as he feels Sabal relax into the embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.”

In response, Sabal wraps his arms around Ajay’s torso and presses them closer, the hairs of his beard tickling the crook of Ajay’s neck and the ghost of a smile pressing against his skin. Ajay squeezes tighter in turn, his hands finding their way up, and Sabal shudders against him as his fingers thread through coarse strands of hair. They’re so close, so close it’s surreal. Ajay thinks he can feel Sabal’s heartbeat dancing against his own.

“Can we stay like this for a bit?” Ajay mumbles into the war-aged creases of Sabal’s jacket. He gets a chuckle in return - a smooth, low rumble that sends sparks up his spine.

“Of course, brother,” Sabal says, and it feels like that voice floods through Ajay’s entire body, gripping his bones. 

They stay like that, still except for the rise and fall of their chests, until Ajay grows stiff from the position and he shifts on the bed, dragging Sabal along with him. Sabal indulges him, leaning in as Ajay pulls back, following along with Ajay until he’s forced over onto the bed. Sabal rolls on top of him, their limbs tangling together, and Ajay laughs as he’s nestled in Sabal’s arms.

They lie still on the sheets, facing each other, listening to the sound of their breaths curling together into the air. Sabal’s fingers draw circles up Ajay’s spine, while Ajay kneads the fabric of Sabal’s jacket, and Ajay’s sure he could stay like this forever.

“I have a plan to get us into the north,” Ajay feels rather than hears Sabal say, Sabal’s lips tracing over his neck. “Will you stand by me, brother?”

“Yeah,” Ajay says automatically, feeling the man’s breath hitch against his skin in response. “Yeah, of course. I’ll do it. Anything.”

Sabal lets out a satisfied hum, and Ajay closes his eyes and smiles, pressing his nose against the vibrations in Sabal’s throat. Sabal pulls away to press his lips against Ajay’s forehead, and Ajay thinks, _I’ve found home_.


End file.
